Missing You
by Anna Catherine
Summary: Takes place during “Homecoming” and deals with Ryan’s feelings towards Theresa, very obvious RyanTheresa pairing.


This takes place during Homecoming.

Missing You

When Ryan got to Newport he didn't think about Theresa. She was a distant memory, someone he would attempt to forget.

It wasn't until he was faced with the idea of going home on Thanksgiving to see Trey, that he had thought about her long enough to realize that he missed her. He didn't plan on seeing her. In fact, he would have avoided her house altogether, if it were possible.

Theresa was the cause of great joy and pain in his past.

A part of him believed that if he left Chino without saying goodbye or without calling, he could forget her. It was a naïve idea, as if someone could rip a band-aid right off and not see the scab.

Theresa was a visible part of him although no one in Newport could see it because they hadn't even known she existed. He wore her in his actions; especially regarding Marissa. He was only protective and took the role of the savior or prince charming because he could never be either to Theresa.

To Theresa, he held more flaws than good traits but not because she wasn't willing to see his good side, because she saw all of him.

She didn't want to be saved and most of all she never asked him to be a prince. Still, he tried to be something more than the guy next door.

Theresa loved him in a way no one could ever love him; even Marissa. It wasn't about her being his first love. It was more about her being the one who made him smile when everything else was falling apart. Theresa never fell apart. She was the phoenix, always rising from the ashes and every time she'd pull herself up like a magical being and take his pain to carry within her.

Marissa couldn't do that because she didn't know him and because Marissa was just as flawed as he was. Theresa was flawed to the point of pure perfection, when you looked into her eyes there was pain but she didn't let herself suffer. Marissa didn't know his past and she didn't know that for most of his life all he dreamt about was a future with Theresa.

There was an awkward moment when he was face to face with Theresa, just after he and Marissa had seen Trey in jail. He didn't even want to speak to her. Her eyes seared through him and felt like a past he couldn't escape along with a love that had left scars on his soul.

When he smelled her perfume, he realized that he had left the one thing he'd ever loved, behind. There was no going back. He couldn't apologize to her and make it better. He couldn't pull her in his arms with Marissa standing there. Instead he tried to brush off her scent and the way she looked. He remembered the jeans she was wearing; because he had practically ripped them off her the last time they made love.

He convinced himself that what he had done by leaving and not saying goodbye had nothing to do with her, but that wasn't true. He couldn't say goodbye to her because that would be saying goodbye to all the things he loved about Chino.

Arturo asked him about Marissa. All he could say was that she was a nice girl. Arturo mentioned that Theresa was seeing Eddie but Ryan just nodded his head trying to avoid the topic of Theresa altogether.

"She was pretty upset," Arturo said, leaning back on the fence.

Ryan put his head down, ashamed.

"You hurt her," Arturo finished.

Ryan put his hand to his forehead. "I just…" he tried to say something, anything that would make sense but what he felt and what he could say were two different things.

"You couldn't say goodbye to her," Arturo answered for him. "Well you two were always kind of obsessive about each other."

Ryan nodded his head as if he agreed but inside, he knew that that was what he loved about his relationship with Theresa; the fact that they always needed to be near each other. If they were in the same room, they were next to each other. When they parted it wasn't long before he would be tapping on her window and she'd let him in.

"I think it's good you two are apart. You know? Give each of you some space to be with other people, see what that's like."

Ryan interrupted him. "I dated other people here," he said somewhat defensively.

Arturo laughed. "Yea, hey I'm not just saying this because Theresa's my sister but she's the best _you're_ going to get out here. Now you have like all these girls to pick and choose from."

_No one will be better than_ _Theresa_, he thought. "Yea," he said thinking about Theresa's lips. "I loved her," he whispered practically under his breath but Arturo heard him.

"Theresa?" he asked looking up at him.

Ryan nodded his head wishing he had a cigarette.

"She loved you too, which is why she took you leaving so hard but you two fuck each other up. I know she still loves you. If she didn't that picture on the fridge would've been down by now," Arturo answered.

Ryan coughed.

"Still smoking?"

"Nah," Ryan answered.

* * *

He knew the configuration of Theresa's house just as well as he did her body.

He passed by her room before reaching the dining room and he couldn't help but walk in, _only for a minute_ he told himself. Everything was as he had left it; it seemed. The paper stars hung from her ceiling and her full size bed still stuck out from the far end of the left wall. He stepped in further, no longer looming in the doorway.

The pictures on the mirror caught his eyes. He was gone from there. The memories of them that had been plastered on that mirror for years and years seemed to have been swiped.

He took a step closer to the mirror examining the pictures that were spread across her mirror now, Eddie kissing her in a photo booth.

He felt his breath catch in his throat.

He'd never seen anyone else kiss her. She had dated other people briefly during their break ups as he had done but he'd never once seen her kiss anyone else. He'd heard about it. His friends had provided him with images, but seeing it, in a picture on the mirror that used to be covered with pictures of her and him took his breath away.

The smell of jasmine clouded his brain. Theresa always smelled like Jasmine in the summer time. He wanted to open her dresser drawers to see if the pictures were there but he was too afraid to discover that they weren't and before he looked back at the room he had once felt was his and hers, he walked out.

* * *

He said "sorry," to Theresa like a child apologized for spilling milk.

It was the only way he knew how without falling into lifeless explanations. Because no matter what he said and no matter how long he hung around in her doorway things would never be the same between them. He could feel it like a surge of energy shifting through his body.

Going back to Marissa and Newport after seeing Theresa was an effort.

* * *

Ryan went back to the pool house and called Theresa as soon as Marissa left.

He imagined Theresa in the pool house or what she would think about his new life and cringed. She wouldn't be pleased to know that he left her behind for all the things she'd hoped for and dreamt about, wanted more than he ever did.

Theresa wasn't the kind of girl you forget. He learned that the second he was face to face with her and all he wanted to do was touch her, feel her skin on his but Marissa's imposed presence kept him from facing his feelings.

He dialed Theresa's phone number so rapidly that he was afraid he'd miss a digit and get the wrong number. But it was her voice that answered after three rings.

"Hello?" her questioning greeting hung in the air as he tried to breathe. "Hello?" she said again more urgently.

He coughed and followed it off with a, "Hey."

"Ryan?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Yea," he didn't know what else to say. He imagined her sliding down onto the floor in the kitchen against the refrigerator to listen to him, as she had always done.

"What's up?" she said curiously, waiting for some sort of explanation as to why he was calling.

He tried to think of something to say but the only thing that came out of his mouth was, "I just wanted to talk to you."

Silence hung in the air.

"How was thanksgiving dinner?" he asked attempting to go back in time to when they could have conversations that didn't involve apologies.

"It was good. Mama made a good turkey as always and Eddie came over and…" she trailed off.

"How are things with you and him?" he asked although he didn't really want to know. He hoped deep down that they were going terribly and that she would again and always be his.

"Oh…" she trailed off again.

"Arturo told me," he answered the question inside her head.

"Oh of course he did," she paused. "Things are going good," he heard a certain sadness in her voice, a longing, he felt inside himself. "You didn't even call Ryan," she whispered.

He could hear the clatter of dishes in the sink and no longer thought of her on the kitchen floor but standing up with her hands in the sink.

"I'm an asshole," he spat out. He would never admit that to anyone else.

"Whatever," she replied hastily.

"I thought…" he lost track of his thoughts.

"Thought what Ryan? That I wouldn't care?" she asked, her voice quivering.

That wasn't what he had thought. He thought that she would forget him and eventually be better off and he would stop caring. "No," he answered, leaning his head back on the pillow.

"Then what?" she was practically screaming on the other end.

"I don't know. Okay. I don't know," he closed his eyes.

"Well that makes two of us then. I would never have done that to you Ryan," she let the words dangle in the air.

"Listen I have to go finish cleaning, call me some other time," and with that she hung up without even waiting for a response from him.

He slammed the phone down onto the bed. "Fuck," he screamed hoping no one would hear him.

He stood up, left the pool house and went back into the main house looking for the keys to the Range Rover. It didn't take long for him to find them and soon he was on the road heading for Chino, heading for Theresa.

* * *

An hour and some minutes later he stood underneath Theresa's bedroom window, watching the shadow of her body walk across the room. He could see the light catch against her hair and he sighed lifting his hand up to knock on the window.

She looked startled when she neared the window, looking down at him.

Theresa leaned over throwing the tee shirt she was about to put on to the bed. Her fingers unhooked the latches to the window and pulled it open.

"Hi," she said reaching for his hand. He linked his hand in hers and climbed in without falling over. "What are you doing here?" she asked taking her hand away from his and crossing the room to her closet.

"I wanted to see you," he said kicking his muddy shoes off and settling in on her bed. The bed he had always considered his own.

She grunted. "So you thought you'd just drive an hour to knock on my window," Theresa turned to face him closing her closet door.

He noticed the red dress she'd worn to the winter dance the year before as the door shut. "Yea. I guess," he answered. She rolled her eyes, bending over to take her socks off. He observed her painted toenails.

"That makes sense. You show up here five months later with, by the way you're new girlfriend, after dare I remind you we were trying to get back together the fucking day before you left and then hey you're gone. And now I get two visits in one day and a phone call. What the fuck Ryan?" she looked up at him straightening her back.

Theresa waited for an answer but before she could get one she started talking again. "I know you just came here for the car and if Trey hadn't even asked you to, you wouldn't have come at all so don't pretend for one second that you would've called me," she reached for the tee shirt on her bed.

He looked down at his socks staying silent for a few minutes while she rolled her eyes.

"Whose is that?" he questioned pointing to the shirt eventually breaking the silence.

"Eddie's," she answered.

He shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't realized that being there would cause more pain then staying away. He'd never wanted Theresa more. Her anger seeped onto her face and the pain resided so heavily in the room he couldn't think of one thing to say that would answer her questions.

She sat down on the bed, away from him eventually turning to him in a fit of anger and said, "I fucking loved you."

He put his head down, staring at the pale purple carpet. "I loved you too," he whispered, feeling guilty.

"I just don't get it. One minute you're there and the next you're gone and I have to hear about everything from Arturo." She paused, still clinging to the tee shirt.

He had the urge to rip the shirt from her hands and throw it across the room.

"I waited for a long time, for you to call. I was so stupid." He could hear her voice shaking and looked over at her to find that a tear had rolled down her cheek.

He almost spread himself across the bed and wiped it off her skin but instead stayed where he was. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She threw the shirt at him. "You're sorry Ryan? What exactly are you sorry for?" her rage was something he'd only seen once and twice during the course of their lifelong romance. "That you just left? That you didn't call? That I thought I knew you to only find out I don't," she kept her voice in a violent whisper attempting to keep her mom from waking.

He stared at her, feeling tears come to his own eyes. "You do know me," he said throwing the shirt off him.

She had stood up and began to pace the room, back and forth between the bed and the door.

Theresa turned to him, her eyes red from crying. "No I don't," she spat back. "The Ryan I knew would never have left without saying goodbye," she paused. "I don't know you at all," she finished placing her hands on her hips.

He stood up and tried to approach her but she threw her hands in the air signaling that if he touched her she would most likely hit him. "I'm sorry Theresa. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," he pleaded feeling as if he would fall to the floor in any second.

"Why are you here? If you knew me at all you would know that bringing your new girlfriend to my fucking house on thanksgiving was like spitting in my face and then you come knocking on my window like nothing has changed. I can't deal with this," she slid down against the closed bedroom door.

"I just wanted to see you," he answered still standing.

Theresa shook her head. "I think you should leave. I have work in the morning," she whispered.

He couldn't leave, not like that. He'd come there for something although he wasn't entirely ready to admit to himself what it was. "I can't," he responded sitting back on the bed.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes catching his blue ones and he felt the past flash before his eyes. All the things he'd ever done with Theresa ran fast forward in his mind. The first time they'd kissed, the first time they'd made love. The night before he'd left, where he'd stood in her doorway, wanting to kiss her.

The memories crashed into him like a drunken driver.

"I remember what it was like," he said. "What it was like to be with you." The space between them broke after he said the words out loud.

She'd been waiting for him to admit that he remembered her; that he hadn't forgotten.

Theresa put her chin against her knees. "I don't," she said. Her voice was barely audible.

His heart began to pound. Theresa wouldn't look at him. Her eyes stayed on the carpet, her fingers running against the fibers.

"You took the pictures down," he said looking over at the mirror.

"Only when Eddie and I started dating," she answered still looking down.

"Oh," he whispered, the pieces coming together. He'd kept pictures of her in his wallet for most of their lives and when he left Chino the pictures were left behind.

"I stayed in your room, you know?" she lifted her head up to look at him. "When I saw that the stuff was gone, I just fell asleep there, crying," she added.

He closed his eyes feeling her pain. He probably would've done the same thing if he had woken up one day to find her gone.

"Theresa," he whispered standing from the bed, walking over to her and then he bent over and sat down next to her. He took her hand in his and she obliged, feeling his skin against her own, was like coming home.

"No," her hand untwined itself from his. "I can't do this," she protested standing up and brushing herself off, still wearing jeans and the shirt he'd seen her in earlier.

Ryan pulled at her wrist where he sat, reaching up.

She flung him off her. "You can't touch me anymore." Theresa walked back over to her bed and threw her body onto it, turning her back to him.

He sighed, standing up once again. He looked her over wanting nothing more than to touch her. He ran his finger against the bare skin of her ankle. She shivered pulling her knees to her chest.

"Leave," she said, her emotions buried underneath her voice.

He stepped back, away from the bed, away from her. "I can't. I can't leave this fucking room," he yelled.

She turned around. "Don't yell! You'll wake up Ma," she exclaimed throwing a pillow at him.

He caught it in between his fingers. "Then talk to me, look at me. Why is it so hard?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't trust you anymore," she gazed back.

The words stung more than he had ever expected. Trust was something that had been built between them for years and even when they'd had numerous fights and break ups she still had faith in him, but her eyes were mistrusting and her fingers never fell from a tight grip.

"You don't get to come back here and hold my hand and pretend for a second, things are okay," she said, taking her shirt off and throwing it to the floor.

He gazed over at Theresa. She didn't seem to mind if he watched her. She was too angry; too afraid of everything they'd ever been through, to care. She reached across the bed, practically falling over and grabbed Eddie's shirt, throwing it over herself.

She didn't bother to take her bra off. He knew she would do that after he left.

Ryan headed towards the window. "I get it. I'll go," he said.

Theresa looked over at him and jumped from her bed. "I don't want you to go," she said placing her hands on his shoulders.

"You just said…" he stuttered, confused.

"I know. I know but…" he didn't wait for her to finish.

His lips pressed against hers before breath even left her mouth. She didn't object. She simply wrapped her arms around his neck, like she had a thousand times before. The pain of their failing relationship dispersed into thin air.

He quickly, and almost violently, wrapped his arms around her waist; not wanting to ever let her go.

Theresa was the first to break the kiss.

He saw in her eyes that she felt guilty and was overflowing with emotions she no longer wanted to carry on her own.

His hand was still resting on her waist. She wiped his saliva from her lips.

"I'm sorry," he apologized for the kiss.

She raised her hand to his mouth. "No. I kissed you back," she responded, twisting from his grasp and sitting down on the bed, looking at the floor.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he stepped forward. He heard her gasp.

"Please don't touch me," she whispered.

Ryan's hand fell from the air, where he had been reaching, to touch her head. She placed her face in her hands and started to cry, softly. "I do love you," he stated, trying to make some of the distance between them go away.

He understood that he had been naïve to come to her house like that, to just show up, to cause her more pain by kissing her and not wanting to leave.

"I know," she whispered looking up at him. "But I can't do this," and by _this_ she meant one kiss leading to clothes being thrown to the floor and him in her bed and her pretending she was sleeping when he left.

As oblivious as he had been for the past five months, he knew that as well. "There's Eddie," she sighed.

"And Marissa," he said nodding his head.

"Yea," she looked over at the window, silently wishing he would leave. Instead he sat down next to her.

"We had some good times together," he thought thinking back to The Winter dance the year before.

"Like The Winter dance," she almost smiled.

He started to laugh. "Do you remember jumping that fence in your dress?" he asked.

She clicked her tongue. "Yes! The damm thing got ripped and I had to ask Andrea to sew it before I could go home," she answered. "And you running from Andy was the funniest thing," she continued.

"Well what was I supposed to do, he thought I was the one that spray-painted his car," he laughed.

Theresa turned to him. "If only he knew it was me," she smiled.

He shook his head. "You were such a crazy girl," he responded.

"Yea… that was a long time ago," her voice trailed into a murmur.

Ryan took her hand in his and squeezed it. She squeezed his hand back.

"We did have some good times though," she agreed, a far away look gracing her face.

Memories began to filter through both of them.

"I think I should go," he let her go of her hand, knowing that if he stayed; he'd kiss her again.

It was unavoidable. Her lips tasted like watermelon and his innocence, all rolled into one. There was no way out of it, except by leaving.

Theresa didn't protest.

She shook her head, agreeing. "Okay," she stood up, walking towards the window and opening it; a cold breeze blowing in. She curved around to look at him. "There you go, unless you want to use the door," her arm pointed to the open window.

"Window is fine," he smiled uneasily. Theresa smiled back.

Ryan's hand brushed hers as he passed and his heart began to beat faster and faster. Her hair was blowing from the wind and the moon shown on her face. He clutched her wrist.

"What?" she twisted around to face him and once again his lips met hers.

And it happened. Clothes began to fall to the floor.

"I love you," was whispered numerous times by each of them while Ryan fell into her like a thousand times before. Ryan could find his way around her body better than anyone else's. They barely spoke, their lips pressed so closely against each other that only small breaths could escape before they would kiss again.

Neither remembered Eddie or Marissa while trailing into a web of ecstasy.

Theresa had been Ryan's first and he'd always imagined her being his last although he'd only admitted it once or twice during the course of their relationship. When he slid inside her that night, on her bed, five months after he'd left her behind he realized that no one and nothing could ever take her place.

When he whispered, "I love you," over and over again it was like coming home to the truth he'd been hiding so long from.

Theresa was the one.

* * *

A few hours later with Theresa in his arms, after all their love making, Ryan stared up at the ceiling, feeling himself become sick at the idea of getting up, putting his clothes on and leaving her.

She was still awake, waiting for him to leave. Her skin was pressed against his like a blanket.

He turned to her, leaning over and kissing her on the forehead.

She knew the drill although what she remembered was Ryan leaving in the morning to go shower at his house and get dressed for school.

Things had changed.

Theresa slithered away from him, pulling the covers above her, turning her back to him.

Ryan closed his eyes, afraid he would cry.

His boxers were by the bed and he quickly put them on, wanting to leave as fast as he could before she saw the pain in his eyes. He found the rest of his clothes sprawled across the room; his shirt next to Eddie's shirt. He had the desire to take Eddie's shirt instead of his own and let her sleep in his but he didn't.

Theresa didn't turn around to look at him when she heard the window crack open and he couldn't afford to either. He jumped from her window and landed on his feet.

When he turned around seven steps later the window was closed and the lights had been turned off.

There was no shadow to wave goodbye to, just darkness.


End file.
